


Moving On, May 1975

by BobbyCrocker101



Category: Kojak (TV 1973)
Genre: 1970s, Detectives, Gen, Manhattan, Manhattan South, Moving On, Moving Out, Mustang, NYPD, New York City, Weddings, moving home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobbyCrocker101/pseuds/BobbyCrocker101
Summary: Bobby Crocker decides it's time to move from Jackson Heights to Manhattan and the captain's daughter gets married.This is an original story set in May 1975, about six weeks after my story "Hell Hath No Fury".Feedback welcome
Kudos: 1





	Moving On, May 1975

**Author's Note:**

> None of the characters belong to me; I'm just playing with them for a while before putting them back in their box. No money is being, or will be made from this story.
> 
> I was 15 in September 1973 when "Kojak" first aired, and had other things to do. Now I'm retired I’ve finally watched this wonderful old TV show for the first time. I’m from the UK and have never visited the US, but have made use of the internet to gain information about the NYPD and the city of New York. I apologise in advance for any language confusion.
> 
> In the Season 2 episode “Nursemaid” (1974) Crocker’s ID shows him to have been born in 1943 which would make him 32 in 1975, but because he's occasionally referred to as being very young and is often called "Kid" or "Junior", my version of him was born in 1951 which makes him 24 in this story, and as little is known about his back story, I've made up my own version.
> 
> The Season 2 episode “Unwanted Partners” (1975) implies that Bobby Crocker’s “old neighbourhood” is in the vicinity of Manor Avenue in The Bronx, but there is at least one other episode that refers to him as living in Jackson Heights, so that's where I've put him.
> 
> Original characters: Mrs Dora French, Lizzie McNeill
> 
> Spoilers: None, but a familiarity with the show would be useful. I would recommend watching the Season 2 episode "Unwanted Partners" from 1975, and then reading my story "Hell Hath No Fury" to get the full picture. Enjoy!

It was a Saturday afternoon and Captain Frank McNeil was sitting contentedly at his desk enjoying the peace and quiet while working on the staff evaluation reports, that and keeping away from all the wedding talk at home. His youngest daughter Lizzie was getting married in a month, and the whole thing had become like a circus. Because he was a police captain and certain things were expected of him, the wedding was taking place in St Patrick’s Cathedral instead of his local church, or at home, which he would have preferred. If he survived the next few weeks without having a nervous breakdown he’d be truly thankful. One thing was certain; once the wedding was over and done with he was taking his wife Lillian away on vacation.

****

“Why don’t you come and look over the empty apartment in my building?” Stavros asked. He’d gone to visit Bobby who was still off the chart after being shot six weeks earlier. The young man had recovered well, and badly wanted to return to work, but despite his enthusiasm he still tired easily. He was also bored, and Stavros sensed his friend was also feeling lonely.

“Because I can’t afford to live there.” Bobby replied. Frankly he was surprised Stavros could afford to live there. 

“Sure you can, Mrs French, she’s the landlady, and she loves cops, and the fact that you’ve been wounded means she’ll like you even more. Besides I’ve already told her all about you.” Stavros continued.

“You have?” Bobby asked.

“I have," Stavros replied. “And she’s dyin' to meet you.”

“Why.” Bobby continued. Not particularly pleased at his friend’s presumption that he could afford to live in Manhattan, one of the most expensive parts of the city. It was alright for Stavros, as a sergeant he earned more, whereas Bobby still earned the same as a patrolman, albeit with overtime and other bonuses added on top. There was his Army pension of course, but that was being invested for later. He wondered how Saperstein managed with a wife and kid to support.

“I told you, because you’re a cop and you’ve been wounded.” Stavros replied. “She always charges less for cops because her first husband was a cop. It’s like when police officers travel on the subway, the conductors often let us ride for free because they feel more secure with a cop on board, and she charges even less for cops who have been wounded. And she never puts the rent up.” 

“So how can she make a living?” Bobby asked.

“Her last husband was some kind of millionaire, and besides she charges her other tenants more.” Stavros replied.

“Isn’t that dishonest?” Bobby responded.

“Are you complainin'?” Stavros asked. “We get cheap accommodation, and she gets free security.”

Bobby decided that no, he wasn’t complaining. He’d lived at one address or another in Jackson Heights all of his life. It was home, and his apartment on 85th Street was cheap. But now that he spent most of his time in Manhattan it made sense that he should move nearer to the precinct, especially when he was working through the night. Even on quiet days the journey to and from Jackson Heights could take forty minutes. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d almost fallen asleep at the wheel while driving home. Several times the lieutenant had told him he should move, the most recent being the night he’d been shot. Since then he’d been off the chart and going stir crazy at home. 

St Mark’s Place was a tree-lined street about a five-minute drive from the precinct and at one end was mostly residential. Although the NYPD had a rule stating that police officers were not supposed to live in the same precinct in which they worked (or as someone once put it, ‘you don’t shit where you eat’), it appeared that neither the captain nor the lieutenant had a problem with their men bending that rule as long as they were careful. In fact since joining the Detective’s Division Bobby had discovered that all of his colleagues, including the captain and lieutenant, lived in one part or another of Manhattan, and there were a couple of cops already living in the same building as Stavros, which probably made it one of the most secure places in town, and there was a large garage under the building where he could park his beloved Mustang and space outside for the Buick he used for work. He was beginning to feel sorely tempted. As things currently stood, of all the squad members, he lived the furthest out, and he had to admit that during his convalescence he’d been lonely. He hadn’t even seen much of his sister since leaving the hospital as she was a student at CCNY and living with a group of friends in an apartment in Greenwich Village. 

“This is Manhattan,” she’d told him, “this is where the 'action' is”. 

****

1958 St Mark’s Place was a large brownstone building with a rectangular hole in the middle, which contained a well-kept garden with a grassed area and maple trees. Stavros lived in an apartment on the 5th floor that over-looked the garden; the empty apartment was opposite but one floor down. The landlady, Mrs Dora French met the two men in the lobby and Stavros was pleased to see that she’d taken an instant liking to his friend, and even though he only needed to wear it if his shoulder started to ache, Stavros had suggested that Bobby wear his sling for extra effect. It appeared to have worked; Mrs French was very attentive and concerned that Bobby should let her know the moment he felt tired during their ‘tour’.

Apartment 4c was one of several apartments on the fourth floor at the back of the building that also overlooked the garden. Mrs French took a key out of her pocket and opened the door and led the two men inside. Bobby looked round in wonder. The place was huge and consisted of a large lounge, off which was a kitchen, bathroom and two bedrooms; one large the other smaller. Apart from the smaller bedroom and the bathroom each room had a window that overlooked the garden below, a glass door provided access to a balcony which was big enough for a table and chairs. Stavros had told him the place was furnished, but this was amazing. There was even a baby grand piano in the corner next to the balcony door. Bobby was stunned. Mrs French smiled; she was beginning to like this young man a lot. Having another cop on the premises would be perfect she decided.

“I’ll let you have the furniture if you want it. It’s all brand new,” she began. “The gentleman who bought it died before he could move in and his family say they don’t want any of it. But I can get it shifted if you want to move your own stuff in.” Bobby finally found his voice.

“It’s amazing”, he croaked, and then added “but I can’t possibly afford...” Mrs French cut him off and then told him what she was asking in the way of rent. Bobby sat down on one of the sofas. “I don’t know what to say,” he continued.

“Say yes!” Stavros shouted. Mrs French smiled. Yes, she thought, this young man would do very nicely. Her non-NYPD tenants were well off enough to be able to afford a small increase in their rent when the time came.

“Yes!” Bobby replied. “And the furniture can stay, even the piano.” Mrs French went back down to her office to get all the necessary paperwork leaving Bobby and Stavros alone in the apartment.

“I didn’t know you played the piano.” Stavros stated.

“I’m not sure I can anymore. It’s been a while.” Bobby replied. “But I used to enjoy playing. Molly taught me the basics, and then I had lessons. I even learned to play the church organ.”

“I wonder if it’s in tune?” Stavros continued as he looked at the piano.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Bobby replied walking over to the instrument and making himself comfortable on the piano stool and began to play a piece of music Stavros recognised as part of Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue. He looked on, impressed. His friend was showing little sign of being out of practice.

****

Captain McNeil had left orders not to be disturbed, especially if someone wanted to speak to him in connection with his daughter’s forthcoming wedding, although no one had actually obeyed that order and he was currently in Kojak’s office on the phone to his wife. It seemed there was no hiding place. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. The latest catastrophe concerned the music for the ceremony. It appeared the regular organist was sick and wasn’t expected to recover in time for the wedding and the stand-in was going on vacation, and no amount of bribery would make him change his mind. As things stood McNeil was looking to buy recordings to play on the day. It wouldn't be the same, but it would be better than nothing. The trouble was there was a particular piece of music Lizzie wanted to have played when she and her new husband walked out of the church, and although he'd contacted at least a dozen music shops, none of them had a copy in stock. One store offered to order one in for him from the UK, but they couldn’t guarantee delivery before the big day.

Outside in the squad room, Stavros could hear the captain getting more and more agitated. An idea came into his head; the captain wanted music, Crocker he decided, needed a project, and the squad had yet to decide what to get the bride and groom as a wedding present. Once the lieutenant was alone Stavros asked to speak with him.

“You got a minute lieutenant?” he asked.

“For you Stavros: all the time in the world." Kojak replied grinning. 

“It’s just that, well, I was wonderin' about the music the captain’s daughter wants for her wedding. We still haven’t come up with an idea for a gift; I thought we could maybe give her the music.”

“You got an orchestra hidden under your jacket?” Kojak asked. "And there I was thinkin' it was all the food you keep eating."

“Well I was thinking about Crocker. Did you know he can play the piano? I think he can play the organ as well."

“You’re kiddin' me.” The lieutenant replied.

“No sir, in fact he’s very good. The thing is, he’s going stir crazy sittin' at home, and I thought it might do him good. Help in his recovery so to speak”.

“I can do the comb and toilet paper thing, but that doesn’t make me a musician.” Kojak replied, still not quite believing that his detective was a closet pianist.

“Actually last night I heard him playing Clair de Lune, the third movement of Suite Bergamasque, by Claude Debussy.” Kojak looked at his friend in disbelief.

“Hey! I go to concerts lieutenant!” Stavros replied indignantly to the lieutenant’s unasked question. “It can’t hurt to ask him, and if he agrees it would certainly solve our wedding present issue.” Kojak had to agree. If his detective was as good at playing the piano as Stavros was implying it would solve a lot of issues, and would be a nice surprise for the captain and his daughter.

****

“You want me to what?” Bobby asked, incredulous.

“Play the music at Lizzie O’Neil’s wedding,” Stavros replied. 

“Are you nuts?” Bobby asked. “You want me to play the organ, at a wedding, in a cathedral, in front of the entire senior staff, not to mention a fairly large section of the population of New York?!”

“Well, yes,” Stavros replied. Bobby had been living in his new apartment for just over a week, and because the weather was unseasonably warm just about everyone had their windows open and Stavros had heard him playing music in the evenings. His young friend was very good, and Stavros wondered if Bobby hadn’t become a cop whether he would have pursued music as a career. “We couldn’t think of anything to give the happy couple as a wedding gift. They’ve been having a lot of problems getting everything sorted, and we thought if we gave them the music it would be a nice surprise for them. Besides I think the captain is about to have a stroke, he’s that stressed.” He noticed Bobby beginning to calm down.

“What music do they want?” He asked sighing. Stavros retrieved a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, unfolded it with a great flourish, and then put on his glasses.

“Well, the lieutenant spoke to Lillian, and she told him that Lizzie wants to walk into the church to 'The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba', said something about her not being anything less than a queen on her big day.”

“By Handel,” Bobby finished. “OK, I can play that, or at least I could. What else do they want?”

“The bride wants to walk out of the church to a piece of music by someone called Widor, there’s no title though.” Stavros replied. “The captain has tried just about everywhere to get a recording, but there doesn’t seem to be one; at least not here in the US.”

“Veedor,” Bobby replied, it’s pronounced Veedor. I imagine it’s the toccata they want; it’s very popular at weddings. But I've never played it. When is the big day anyway?”

“The 25th, at 11am.” Stavros replied.

“That’s only two weeks away!” Bobby was getting agitated again. He didn’t want to disappoint his captain, but there was a limit to his patience and his musical ability. “What music do they want while they’re off signing the register?” he asked. 

“Lillian said to leave it up to you.” Stavros replied. Bobby breathed a sigh of relief. At least he would only have to learn ONE piece in the next two weeks. He'd played the organ at his local church on occasion, so he wasn't unfamiliar with the instrument and could play most hymns. His chest wound was almost healed, but his left arm and shoulder still ached if he overdid things, and he was still attending physiotherapy sessions at the hospital. 

“The captain likes Vivaldi doesn’t he?” Bobby asked, an idea forming in his mind.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” Stavros asked.

“I don’t think I have a lot of choice, do I?” Bobby replied. “Although I’m not confident I can learn the Widor in time. I think Molly has a copy of the sheet music. I'll ask if I can borrow it, and I will need to have a run through or six on the cathedral organ. I imagine it’s a lot bigger than the one in my local church.”

“Lillian’s gonna arrange that for you,” Stavros replied. "and she'll let you know what hymns they're havin'. Bobby smiled slightly. Somewhere along the line he knew he’d been set up, but he knew his colleagues meant well and it would give him something to do. He was due to attend an appointment at the NYPD’s Medical Division the day before the wedding. Hopefully they would clear him to return to work.

****

The day of the wedding had been sunny and warm. The bride and groom had headed off to their reception, and Bobby was sitting outside on the cathedral steps with some of the guys from the squad feeling very tired but also pleased with himself, his arm resting in its sling. He’d managed to play all of the music the bride had requested, and especially for the Captain had played 'Spring' from Vivaldi's Four Seasons while the register was being signed. He’d been for his medical the day before and although he’d not yet heard any news, felt quietly confident. A shadow blocked out the sun and he looked up to see the lieutenant looking down at him.

“My office; Monday morning Crocker; light duties only, understood?” Bobby looked up and smiled. 

“Understood, lieutenant,” he replied.

“And, good job kid! The captain’s already got you ‘booked’ for the next departmental talent night.” Kojak continued.

“Terrific,” Bobby replied to himself as the lieutenant headed off to his car and the reception.

****

“Where are we goin'?” Stavros asked as he and Bobby stepped onto the subway train and flashed their detective shields at Freddie the conductor who was well known to Bobby and let them ride for free.

“You’ll see. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Bobby replied, not giving anything away. He’d moved everything he wanted to keep to the St Mark’s Place apartment, but one thing remained; his beloved 1969 Mustang. She had been an eighteenth birthday present from his foster parents. Brand new but damaged in an accident Artie had bought her at a police auction and the two of them had intended to do her up together when Bobby returned from Vietnam, but sadly it was not to be and the young man had worked on the car alone with occasional help from friends. Blue with a double white stripe on the hood, she was his pride and joy, and currently residing in a locked garage not far from his former home on 85th Street. Now that he’d given up the apartment the car needed to be moved its new home, and he wanted to share the moment with Stavros, who had been so kind to him during his convalescence. He’d been cleared to drive and had arranged to meet his friend John who owned the garage that afternoon. 

The subway ride took about an hour, and John had met them outside the garage as promised. He opened the door and let them in.

“Meet Betsy.” Bobby began, beaming with pride as he removed the covers.

“Wow!” Stavros replied. “Is she yours?”

“All mine.” Bobby replied. “I don’t get to drive her as often as I’d like, but I could never part with her.”

“Betsy?” Stavros asked.

“Don’t ask,” Bobby replied. “My sister and Molly decided the car had to have a name, and Betsy was the best they could come up with at the time.”

Climbing into the driver’s seat, the car started first time and John informed him that it would be due for a service in the fall. Stavros wedged himself into the passenger seat and the two men headed off. Deciding that at this time of the day the roads would be fairly quiet Bobby headed out of Queens on the Grand Central Parkway, crossing the Harlem River and then joining FDR Drive via Harlem River Drive. He put his foot down and headed south toward Manhattan; Steppenwolf’s 'Born to be Wild' was playing on the radio, the windows were wound down and the wind was whipping his hair, but Bobby couldn’t have been happier. A new chapter of his life was about to begin.


End file.
